


Bonus Content!

by DyslexicSquirrel



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alpha Bucky Barnes, Alpha Natasha Romanov, Alpha Sam Wilson, Alpha Tony Stark, Alpha/Omega, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, F/M, M/M, Omega Bruce Banner, Omega Steve Rogers, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Spanking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-13
Updated: 2019-09-17
Packaged: 2020-06-27 11:14:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19789735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DyslexicSquirrel/pseuds/DyslexicSquirrel
Summary: A collection of scenes from other works that didn’t make it into the main fic.





	1. I’m Right on Top of That, Tony: Chapter 11 spanking scene

**Author's Note:**

> If you haven’t read I’m Right on Top of That, Tony it might not completely make sense, but it can be read alone since it’s a bonus sex scene. 
> 
> Tags will update as I add more stuff. And I’m going to rate it as explicit because there might end up being more than a little smut. 😂

“You wouldn’t dare.” 

Those words were like a red flag being waved in front of a bull. And Tony had spent time in Spain, watching bullfights, running in Pamplona. He’d seen how the bulls reacted. But maybe it had nothing to do with the color and they just didn’t like things being waved in their face—being teased. Tony could understand that. “Just an FYI, telling me I’m not going to do something is the quickest way to get me to do it.” 

Steve’s eyes darted to the right and Tony moved to cut him off, except his kitten was smart and it was only a feint. Steve changed direction and went around the left side of the island. It didn’t matter though. Even with Tony’s heart not being what it used to be (maybe 20 plus years ago, anyway, before he started binge drinking and experimenting with drugs) even with the new improved reactor, Steve couldn’t run faster than him because of his asthma. Or maybe Steve just wanted to get caught. 

Tony grabbed him from behind and hefted Steve onto his shoulder, the smaller man landing with an ‘oomph’. Then he headed for the stairs. 

“Tony, this isn’t funny,” Steve said, but he was laughing. “Put me down. You’re gonna hurt yourself.” 

“Oh, please.” He couldn’t help but scoff. “You weigh like, what, ninety pounds soaking wet.” 

“Ninety-four, last time I was at the doctor!” Steve sounded offended and a laugh slipped out because seriously the omega was adorable. The laugh transformed into a grunt when Steve dug his nails into Tony’s back in retaliation. 

When he reached the bedroom, Tony dropped Steve onto the mattress unceremoniously. The omega bounced a few times before he rolled over and tried to crawl away. Tony pounced. 

Steve laughed when Tony’s weight pressed against his back. “Tony, get off. You weigh a ton!” 

“I’ll be offended about that later.” Tony moved to the side, placing one of his palms against Steve’s ass, showing his intent. Steve froze, his squirming ceasing, but he didn’t move away. “If you don’t want me to do this, tell me to stop and I’ll stop. I’d never force you to do anything you didn’t want. You know that, right, kitten?” 

Twisting around to lean on a hip, Steve pulled Tony’s face close, the bandages on his hands catching on Tony’s beard, pressing a kiss to Tony’s lips. It was over fast, barely a brush, and he looked at Tony with such sureness when he met his eyes that Tony’s heart skipped a beat. 

“I know,” Steve assured him then bit his lower lip. Tony pulled it free with his thumb, sucking the abused flesh into his mouth causing Steve to groan. When Tony released his lip they were both panting. “I don’t, um, what do I do?” 

Steve didn’t seem second guessing agreeing to this—more nervous about doing something he’d never done before. And Tony would bet money Steve had never let anyone spark him before. Tony had swatted his ass a few times since they’d gotten together, but being sparked was different. He didn’t want Steve to have regrets even if it wasn’t something he didn’t want to do again. 

Tony smiles at Steve playfully and moved to the end of the bed. Feet planted on the ground, he patted his lap. “Drop trou and over the lap, sweetheart.” 

Steve wriggled out of his jeans, kicked them off the side of the bed, crawling down to join Tony. He sat back on his knees, fingering the waistband of his tighty whities—which are actually blue, but tighty blueies hardly has as nice of a ring. He usually wears boxers and Tony admired the way the fabric cupped his cock. “Should I take these off, too?” 

Tony liked flirty Steve, but as much as he would enjoy a half naked Steve over his lap, he shook his head. “Not yet. Later.” 

Steve raised a brow, laid himself over Tony’s lap, and gripped the material of Tony’s jeans. Tony doesn’t want Steve to hurt himself more than he’s already hurt—thinking of him getting hurt again makes see red before he swallows down the anger. Don’t think about that, he thinks. He’s not ever going to touch Steve when he’s mad. 

He resituated them both so the part of Steve’s body not over his lap is resting on the bed, stroking his hand down Steve’s spine. “Careful with your hands.”

Steve nodded, pushing up into Tony’s hand when it’s placed on his ass. Tony squeezed the globe through the cotton. “Tell me if you want me to stop.”

“I will.” Steve is looking over his shoulder at Tony when the first smack lands. He grunts and faves foreword, but doesn’t tell Tony to stop. He keeps the smacks light to start, slowly building up. When Steve was shifting his hips, raising his ass in the air in invitation after each smack landed, let his hand land a little harder. 

Tony felt Steve harden against his leg and a helpless moan fell from his lips each time Tony’s hand connected. The way Steve’s ass jiggled under his hand was mesmerizing and Tony needed to see it uncovered. Grasping the waistband of the briefs, Tony pulled them down until the hooked under the curve of Steve’s ass. 

His ass was one of the Wonders of the World as far as Tony was concerned. If he was a religious man, he’d get down on his knees and thank God for creating it. The skin was pink, the same color Steve’s face flushed when he was embarrassed or turned on. Tony massaged the skin and Steve arched like a cat. 

“You doing okay, Steve?” 

“You said you wouldn’t stop unless I told you to.” 

The sound of Steve’s voice had Tony looking up, realizing that he had been staring fixedly at Steve’s ass and how his hands looked against that pale, pinked-up skin. “Hmm?” It took a few seconds before it registered what Steve had said. His brows shot up, mouth curving in a smug smile. “You liking this that much, kitten?” 

“I guess.” Stubborn omega. Tony didn’t really need him to answer. 

He spread Steve’s cheeks apart, saw the pool of slick in the crevice in valley in between. “I’ll take that as a yes,” he murmured, running a finger around the little whorl Steve’s opening, smile widening when the omegas sucked in a breath. He slipped the tip of his finger in, pulling at the rim, and drew his other hand back, letting it land in a resounding smack against the swell of Steve’s ass. 

“Tony,” Steve moaned, pressing his hips back, trying to force Tony’s finger deeper. 

“Who would have guessed, huh?” 

“What?” Steve spoke through gritted teeth, frustrated at Tony’s teasing. 

Tony removed his finger and gave Steve’s hole a light smack. He yelped in surprise, but lifted his hips for more. “That you were so kinky.” 

“Jesus, Tony, just…” He trailed off, panting. 

“Just what?” 

“Do something.” 

Tony stopped teasing, two fingers easily sliding past the tight rim of Steve’s hole, tips finding his prostate like a loadstone. With his other hand, Tony gave his upturned ass light smacks. He didn’t stop until Steve came, hips twitching against Tony’s thigh, giving friction to his cock. 

The sight almost made Tony come in his pants like a teenage boy. Steve was limp over his lap and To t was trying to think of the best way to shift him to lay under the covers so Tony could take himself into the bathroom and jack off when he heard Steve speak. His face was pressed to the comforter, though, so Tony couldn’t hear him. 

Tony ran a hand through Steve’s sweat dampened hair. “What was that, kitten?”

Steve lifted himself up enough to squeeze a hand between their bodies and cup Tony’s dick through his jeans. Tilting his head to meet Tony’s eyes, Steve said, “I want you inside me, Tony.” 

“I just was inside you.” Why the hell are you not naked already, Tony thought. 

“Not enough.” Steve’s pupils were blown and Tony was done trying to do whatever the hell it was he’d been trying to do. Be noble? Selfless? Tony gave a mental snort. Since when had he ever been those things? 

Between the two of them they moved to the middle of the bed, Steve on his back, Tony between his spread thighs. Getting the condom on took more coordination than Tony had at present, but he managed, sliding into Steve’s hole, the omega’s body welcoming him with barely any resistance. 

It didn’t take Tony long to come and he kept his knot outside because if he tied them together, they would never get dinner. And if his boyfriend wanted to cook him dinner, he wasn’t going to say no. 


	2. I’m Right on Top of That, Tony- Natasha Comes Clean to Bruce

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is from _I’m Right on Top of That, Tony_ after Natasha leaves Tony’s penthouse in Chapter 6.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I meant to have Natasha using the Natalie Rushman name at the beginning of IRoToTT and I didn’t. So if that part is confusing that’s why. Sorry! This is what I get for posting what amounts to the first draft of that fic. It needs editing and not just for typos. **sigh** I’ve already gone back and changed her name in the beginning of the fic, but for those who read it before, I’m sorry! 
> 
> But here’s some angsty Bruce and Natasha.

Natasha has forgotten what it was to want something for herself, if she ever even knew. She wasn’t raised to want things for herself. The Red Room didn’t raise selfish girls. 

But she wasn’t there anymore. She wasn’t that person. She might never be free, not really—they were in her head too deeply to ever root them out completely—but she could want things now. And from the moment she’d seen Bruce, something about the omega had drawn her. 

Natasha knew who he was,  _ what _ he was. It just hadn’t mattered, but he hadn’t known who she was because she had chosen to keep it from him. There were only so many times she could tell herself, “It’s for the job” before it started sounding like a lie. 

Or she realized it had been a lie all along. Anything to justify the end goal, right? 

Now everything was about to blow up in her face. She should have known better than to try and take anything for herself. She had done too many things in her life for that.

Bruce was probably better off without her anyway. He deserved better than an alpha who kept secrets for a living and dealt in death.

Bruce hadn’t been in his lab for once. When she asked JARVIS after leaving the penthouse, the AI informed her that he was in his apartment. Natasha knocked on his door and waited. He had given her a key, not that it really mattered because he rarely locked his door, something she had chided him for on numerous occasions. 

For a man who was being hunted by several government agencies he seemed to have a severe lack of self preservation. Then again, if they really wanted him a deadbolt wasn’t going to keep them out. It wouldn’t keep her out. 

But she didn’t use her key and she didn’t check to see if the door was unlocked and walk in uninvited. Because the woman Bruce had granted that privilege to was Natalie Rushman, not Natasha Romanov. So, she stood there and waited. 

When Bruce opened the door and saw her, he smiled. She didn’t smile back. His brow furrowed in confusion, smile falling a bit, but he stood back to let her in, closing the door behind them. 

Bruce headed for the kitchen, while Natasha stood in the living room, uncertain. It was a feeling she wasn’t used to. Was it only a few days ago that she had felt so at home here? 

“I’m making tea. Did you want some?” Bruce’s voice floated out of the kitchen and she closed her eyes in a rare moment of weakness, savoring the the sound of his voice. The way it sometimes pitched just for her. Natasha had sex with a lot of men and women, both alpha and omega, but it never felt personal. She felt more of a connection with Bruce and they hadn’t even kissed. 

Taking a deep breath, she opened her eyes and said loud enough for him to hear her, “That would be great, thanks.” 

She walked into the kitchen, leaning against the door frame, walking Bruce move around, measuring out the loose leaf tea they both preferred, in the infuser, pouring hot water over it and letting it steep. 

“It’ll be a few minutes,” he told her when he turned and leaned a hip against the counter to look at her, eyes softening. She nodded, absently, eyes running over him, taking in all of his features. Committing it to memory. The way his hair always looked a little messy and fell over his forehead. The way he rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, the glimpse of chest hair when he left some of the shirt buttons open. The unconscious gestures he made when he was nervous. But mostly the way he was looking at her, like she was special. 

Natasha straightened, meeting Bruce’s eyes. She didn’t shy away from things that were difficult. “You’re going to hear about this sooner or later and I wanted you to hear it from me.”

“Hear about what?” His brow furrowed again, lips turning down in a frown, and he took a step toward her. She held up a hand to stay him. 

“I’m not who you think I am.” 

“Natalie,” he began, but she cut him off. 

“Natasha. My name is Natasha, not Natalie.” 

He blinked, confused smile replacing the brown, and he huffed out a small laugh. The suspicion, and how much she could tell he didn’t want to believe it, hit her like a physical blow. She maintained her posture through training alone. “What are you talking about?” 

“My name is Natasha Romanov and I work for SHIELD. Natalie Rushman is cover I’ve been maintainability for the last year.” 

Bruce recoiled, almost tripping in his haste to put more space between them, looking at her with wide, wounded eyes. “Why?” 

She answered the question he didn’t ask. “This wasn’t about you. I was keeping an eye on Tony.” 

“And, what, I was just a bonus? Bet your bosses were happy you found me.” 

“SHIELD always knew where you were, Bruce. We never lost you, so there was nothing to find.” 

“Get out,” he ordered, voice husky with emotion. 

“I never meant to hurt you.” Why she said it she didn’t know. There was no point, really. Whether she meant to or not at the beginning, she knew what the outcome would be when she let this continue while Bruce was in the dark. 

The tea pot flew against the wall inches from her head. She didn’t even flinch. “Get. Out.” The words were sharp this time, bitten out between clenched teeth. 

Before Natasha turned to leave she saw green bleeding into Bruce’s eyes. He might be the one who could turn into a giant green beast, but she was the one that felt like a monster. 


	3. The Thrilling Adventures of Tony- Chapter 2 Steve POV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is Steve’s POV during the Ty confrontation.

Bucky was leaning against the wall next to where I sat on the ground outside the library sketching, looking like he was asleep standing up. I knew better after years of friendship. His chin was tucked into his chest, brim of his hat low over his eyes, legs crossed at the ankle and arms over his chest, he didn’t appear to be paying attention to anything except the inside of his eye lids. But I knew that behind the dark tint of his sunglasses, his eyes were scanning the crowd. He could go from relaxed to a flat out run in seconds. 

It was one of the things that made Bucky a great PI. Barnes Investigations was always in high demand even with the fact that Buck often took on omegas looking for dirt against their lying, cheating, stealing and/or abusive alphas, which some alphas took exception to. It was why he was here on campus today. An omega had hired Bucky to find proof that her alpha was cheating on her. I didn’t know other particulars (Bucky took his client’s privacy seriously) beyond that the alpha in question was a professor here. 

I was squinting at the tree I was sketching, trying to get the play of shadows just right, when a whistle from Bucky made me look up. My best friend flicked the brim of his hat, pushing it back enough to tip his sunglasses down and peer over the top of the frames. “Check our the classy chassis on that one.” 

I follow the direction of his gaze, frowning at his word choice at the same time I’m a hypocrite because I feel my spine straighten, my body pitching forward to get a better look. Still, I can’t not chastise Bucky. “Do you have to say things like that?” 

“What?” He looks down at me and throws a hand out toward the omega he was ogling. “You got a working set of peepers and that boy is stacked.” 

Bucky turns his eyes back to the omega and I smack his leg before looking back down at my sketchbook. Bucky isn’t  _ wrong _ . He is gorgeous, but objectifying random omegas, especially when they don’t know it’s happening and can’t object? It’s just not right. 

“Ow,” Bucky cries. “Fuck you, man.” 

I ignore him. I want to finish this sketch before the light changes and I have to meet my statistics tutor soon. Sam had told me to call Rhodes, a buddy from Air Force ROTC, who had told me about his friend Tony who offered tutoring sessions. I’d tried going through student services, but it had been a waste of time since I left more confused than when I started, but Rhodes assured me that Tony could teach anyone. I really hoped he was right. 

And even if he wasn’t? I smiled, hand stilling. From our brief talk over the phone, Tony wasn’t one of those omegas who simpered just because they were talking to an alpha, which I liked. He was sarcastic, borderlining on rude, but underneath that I think there was someone who was just sweet and didn’t want anyone to know. I’m not sure how I knew, and I could be wrong, but I didn’t think I was. Usually, I was a decent judge of character. 

“Oh, no,” Bucky says, sighing, and I looked up again. Felt my shoulder stiffen. The omega Bucky's been watching is talking to a blonde alpha, but that wasn’t what had my fist clenching around the pencil in my hand. I made myself stop just short of snapping it. 

The omega could talk to whoever he wanted, but when that someone he chose to talk to put their hands on him when he obviously didn’t want them there? That I took issue with. I closed my sketchbook with a snap, the pencil held in between the pages, and set it aside on top of my backpack before pushing to my feet. 

I had only taken one step forward when Bucky says, “It’s not your business, Stevie.”

I know why he’s saying it. I had gotten into a lot of fights when I was younger and too scrawny to back up my alpha aura or whatever you want to call it. I’d had a presence three times bigger than I was that other alphas wanted to keep down (because wanting to submit to someone the size of an omega insulted their fragile egos) and a desire to protect others that my small body couldn’t back up. Bucky had stepped in to save my ass more than once. After I hit a growth spurt, sprouting up almost a foot and packing on muscle from joining the track and wrestling teams? Well, now it went one of two ways: either the alphas backed down on their own or they lashed out, but when it was the latter I had the size to hold my own. 

“That’s just an excuse people use to turn a blind eye on things they know are wrong, Buck.” 

“You can’t save everyone,” he counters, teeth clenched. He still sees me as that younger kid he saved in an alley. After my mom died and his parents took me in, he saw me as less his best friend and more his little brother. 

“It’s not about that,” I tell him for what feels like the thousandth time. It’s tiring and frustrating in equal measure having to repeat this. Bucky isn’t a bad guy, but he was like a lot of alphas and blind to things he couldn’t understand. I’d been on the receiving end of treatment by alphas like the blonde putting his hands that omega. I wasn’t trying to prove anything, though. “I’m not trying to be a hero, Bucky. But what if it was one of your sisters, huh?” 

Low blow, maybe, but it made Bucky look away. Two of his three sisters were omegas. Sometimes hitting close to home was the only way to get my point across. I shook my head and walked over to the arguing pair, hearing their low, angry voices the closer I got. I couldn’t see the omegas face, but the alpha whose fingers were making dents in his pale skin was sneering. 

“Everything alright here?” I tried to keep my voice level, but I don’t think I was a hundred percent successful. The alpha’s eyes snapped to my face and he released his hold so fast that the omega stumbled. I steadied him with a light touch on his shoulder, pulling my hand back as soon as he was steady. 

“Everything is great,” the alpha says with an overly bright smile that match his overly bright, English accented tone. Oh, he was a big, bad alpha when it was against someone half his size, wasn’t he? 

I ignore him for now, because I wasn’t talking to him anyway and because I know it will annoy him. “You okay, sugar?” 

“I’m peachy,” he chirps, turning in my direction. There’s a moment when he pauses before craning his neck back to look up at me that I try to ignore. The omega in him reacting to the alpha in me. I can almost smell it in the air when I draw in a breath. I wish I could see his eyes, but they’re hidden behind red framed sunglasses. 

Then, the moment is gone, the omega seeming to give himself a mental shake. “Now, if you’ll both excuse me, I have something to do.” 

He breezes off, but I don’t turn to watch him, even though his voice niggles something in the back of my mind. My eyes stay on the alpha, who is shifting uncomfortably on his feet, but he’s lost some of the hunch to his posture he adopted when I first spoke. “I ever catch you putting your hands on someone like that again, you and I are going to have problems.” 

The sneer comes back at that. “What are you, Tony’s guard dog?” 

The name gives me pause. Had to be a coincidence, right? Tony is a common name, especially in New York with its large Italian population. It doesn’t matter anyway. I take a step closer. We’re the same height, but that doesn’t matter either. “Nah,” I tell him. “I don’t even know who he is.” 

“So, you just like throwing your weight around, is that it? Sticking your nose in other people’s business?” He’s not looking down, but he isn’t exactly meeting my eyes either. 

“I think it’s you who likes throwing his weight around, buddy,” I say with a smile, but my words aren’t the least bit friendly. I clapped him on the shoulder, trying not to take too much satisfaction when he stumbles a bit. “Just remember what I said.” 

I walk away without a backward glance, not worried about him retaliating. Getting into a throw down, drag out fight in the middle of campus wouldn’t be acceptable and that guy looks like he hasn’t been in a fight in his life. I retrieve my bag. Bucky looks equal parts annoyed and proud. 

“I’ll see you later, Buck.” 

“Yeah,” he sighs. Pulls me into a quick hug, patting me on the back. “Don’t do anything to stupid, punk.” 

“Back atcha, jerk.” 


	4. I’m Right on Top of That, Tony- Bucky’s revelation to Sam

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Takes place sometimes after Chapter 16 of I’m Right on Top of That, Tony.

Sam gave a perfunctory knock at the open door, walking in without waiting for an invitation, closing the door behind them. Bucky didn’t care; Sam came the same time everyday for their sessions and gave up waiting to be invited after Bucky told him to knock it off. He wasn’t going to tell him to leave, because the counseling was mandatory right now and because Bucky liked talking to Sam anyway, so it was pointless. 

Sam stopped in sometimes when he wasn’t scheduled to, if he had free time. Sometimes they talked. Sometimes they played cards. Sometimes Bucky just didn’t want to be alone and Sam would do work he could be doing in his office while Bucky read (or pretended to). He didn’t have much to look forward to these days except Sam’s visits. 

“How’re you holding up?” Sam settled into the chair next to his bed, crossing one of his legs over the other, ankle resting on the opposite knee. The sleeves of his button down were rolled up. 

“Can’t wait to get this cast off. My leg itches like a mother.” He didn’t need to be looking at the other man to know what expression he wore. Lips pursed, unimpressed with Bucky’s deflecting. 

“That’s not what I meant and you know it.” 

No, he meant how was Bucky feeling now that Steve had gone back to New York with his boyfriend. Not just the not being able to have his best friend around anymore, but how he was feeling about the whole situation. He didn’t begrudge Steve for being happy. Was happy that he was happy. He couldn’t wait to meet Steve’s kid and be the favorite uncle. He wasn’t even jealous, not the way most people would think—the ones who thought omegas and alpha’s couldn’t just be friends. Especially not when they were as close as he and Steve were. His ma had asked if he was okay when they talked on the phone the other day and he mentioned Stevie and Tony. He knew what she meant. His family had always expected him and Steve to end up together, except Steve wasn’t Bucky’s type. And that was the problem, wasn’t it? 

“It’s… I miss him,” he said, breaking the silence that had settled over them, Sam patiently waiting for Bucky to put his feelings into words. 

“That’s understandable. The patients here who don’t have a support network close by can feel very isolated. It’s tough.” 

He blew out a harsh breath. Ran his hand over his face. The one hand he had left. Bucky stared at it, clenched it into a fist, let it drop into his lap. He eyed the cast, wishing he could claw it off. But he had at least another month with the damn thing. Three fractures in his leg and a broken hip from how he’d landed. It had been dumb trying to take those insurgents out the way he had. If those locals hadn’t found him and hid him, he might have died. Almost had. The rest of his team had already thought he was and he didn’t blame them for leaving what they thought was his corpse behind on the floor of the hut he crashed through as they flew over. Bucky had done what he’d done so the rest of his team could get out on the helo. 

He didn’t regret it for a second. But he also didn’t feel lucky most days. When he’d been really low, right after he had woken up, in pain, minus an arm, stitched up from the surgeries they’d performed to save his life…

A part of him had wished they hadn’t.

Seeing Steve so damn happy just brought home everything he’d lost. His military career, the one thing he had that gave his life meaning, was over. Even after the cast came off, it would be months of PT before he could walk and the army didn’t want a one armed sniper. 

Who the fuck would? It was already hard enough to—

Stop it, he snapped at himself. Wallowing isn’t going to fix shit. It was better this way. Unless he wanted to go back to the way things were in high school, having meaningless relationships because they  _ looked  _ right or the few times another soldier and he would hook up in secret on base, risking everything if they were found. 

Better to be alone. 

“What’s going on in that head of yours?” Sam asked. 

Bucky looked at him then quickly turned his head to look out the window. He didn’t mean to say anything, he really didn’t, but Sam had a way of making Bucky lower his defenses. Say shit he normally wouldn’t. “I want what he has.” 

It didn’t come out exactly the way he meant it, but Bucky couldn’t think of any other words to express how he felt without coming right out to Sam with the truth. 

“You could still have it, man.” 

“I don’t think so,” Bucky said with a laugh devoid of humor. 

He heard the chair Sam was in creak when he shifted, but kept his eyes resolutely on the window. It hadn’t snowed in a while, but there were still patches of white here and there, the branches of the trees bare, their spindly limbs looking so defenseless. 

“Can I be brutally honest here, James?” 

“How many times I gotta tell you to call me Bucky?” It was an argument they had daily. Bucky though Sam was doing it just to annoy him. “And whatever, go ahead.” 

“Plenty of amputees go on to lead full lives. And you’re in a better position than a lot of them. Not that what happened to you didn’t suck, but don’t write off your future because of what happened to you. Your life isn’t over,  _ Bucky _ .” 

“It’s not just this,” he said, waving at where his arm should be. 

“What is it then? Tell me and maybe we can work it out together. It’s what I’m here for.” 

If only. Bucky closed his eyes, concentrated on taking even breathes through his nose. Sam talked a good game, but would he really be so blasé if Bucky told him what was really going through his head? Something told him no. 

But he was just tired and angry enough to not care. Maybe he’d get a new counselor. It would be both better and worse. Without opening his eyes, Bucky said, “I like alphas.”

Sam didn’t say anything and Bucky opened his eyes to stare at the ceiling, waiting for him to get up and walk out. He hadn’t even told Steve, but he told  _ Sam _ ? What the fuck it wrong with you, he thought. Too many things, was the answer he gave himself. 

“Oh,” Sam finally said, chair making noise again when he shifted. “Okay.” 

“Okay?” Bucky rolled his head on the pillow to look at Sam in disbelief. That was all he had to say? Where was the disgust? The censure? Sam didn’t strike him as the judgemental type, really, but even a lot of people who claimed to be open minded and accepting of others differences thought alphas being together was what was destroying society’s moral fiber. 

“What did you want me to say?” Sam was entirely too calm. Bucky had been on the brink of panic speaking the words and Sam acted like it was nothing. 

“I dunno, tell me I’m a degenerate or something!” 

“I’d have to call myself one, too, then,” Sam said, almost smiling. 

“What?” 

“I don’t strictly date other alphas, but yeah.” He shrugged, nonchalant, while Bucky stared at him in shock. “I don’t really advertise it cause it’s no one’s business, but my family knows. My old partner, Riley. He knew, too.” 

Bucky didn’t know how to respond to that. He sat there blinking dumbly. That knowledge added a new layer of ‘Oh, fuck’ because it was one thing when it was just Bucky finding Sam attractive thinking there was no shot in hell. But knowing he was into alphas, too, dropped a whole lot of ‘maybe’ between them. 

Sam could not be attracted to him, probably wasn’t (he hadn’t exactly been looking his best since they met) and there was the whole Sam was his counselor thing, but… maybe. 

“You can still have the things you want, Bucky.” 

Could he? 

Maybe was more than he’d had in a long time. 


	5. The Thrilling Adventures of Tony- Bucky POV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Takes place during Chapter 4 of The Thrilling Adventures of Tony after they get to the diner. This is what Bucky is up to when he disappears for a bit.

I had a sour expression on my face when I leaned against the wall and crossed my arms over my chest. This had been way too easy. Too many knuckleheads thought they had what it took to be successful in my line of work when in actuality, they were all muscle and no brains. The man I was standing behind was one of those—not the brightest bulb in the box. He got off on throwing his weight around, mistaking fear for respect. 

And he’d been following my friends. 

Well, not exactly. He was following someone who was  _ with  _ my friends. Either way I didn’t appreciate the intrusion or this jackass’s proximity to Stevie. Didn’t matter how much taller Steve got or if he could be cypress more than I could, I would always think of Steve as my little brother who needed my protection. Sue me, it was an alpha thing. I wasn’t as hung ho as he was about ignoring all of my instincts—or pretending that I was. If he was serious about this Stark kid, Rumlow would need to be warned away and I needed to find out exactly who was having him followed and why. 

Sneaking down an alley to double back and walk up the street behind where the other alpha was leaning against a car had been too easy. “Can I help you with something, Rumlow?” 

I got a lot of satisfaction out of the way he twitched before straightening and turning to face me. No one else on the street paid us any mind. Brock Rumlow’s mouth was twisted into a sneer. “Barnes. Nice to see you,” he said the same way someone might say, “I just stepped in dog shit.” 

The feeling was mutual. “I’m gonna need you to back off.” 

Rumlow spread his hands, trying to look innocent and only managing to look constipated. “I’m just doing my job, Barnes. You should understand. Client pays us to do something, we do it.” 

“We're nothing alike.” Sure, I mostly got paid to spy and snitch on people, but I took jobs that mattered, too. Tracking down lost kids, investigating crimes the cops wouldn’t or couldn’t touch, pro bono work for people from my old neighborhood. I was an asshole in a lot of ways, but I wasn’t heartless and I had standards. Brock would take on any client no matter how reprehensible. He freelanced for the mob, he worked with dirty cops, he beat people or made them disappear no questions asked as long as the client paid his fees. He was a thug and a glorified hit man. 

“Aw, buddy, don’t be like that,” Rumlow said, casually walking toward me, arm outstretched to wrap around my shoulder like we were old friends. I didn’t trust this weasel as far as I could throw him. Before he could get a hold of me, I grabbed his wrist, pivoted on the ball of my foot, and had Rumlow shoved face first against the wall I’d previously been leaning on, arm twisted behind his back, and my free hand clamped around the back of his neck. This wasn’t a dignified position, but was even less so for an alpha who thought as highly of himself as he did. 

Pedestrians were giving us a wide breath now and I knew I didn’t have long before the coppers showed up. I applied more pressure to Rumlow’s arm, a not so subtle threat that I would dislocate his shoulder of need me. He tried to get up, push me off, but he had no leverage. “Who hired you?” 

“Come on,” Rumlow rasped around a laugh, voice muffled by the way his cheek was pressed into the brick. “You know I can’t tell you.” 

“Like you give a shit about confidentiality.” I kept my voice low. “The person who hired you to follow the kid—I want a name.” 

“You’ll regret this—”

“Yeah, yeah, heard it before,” I said, cutting him off. I pressed his face harder against the wall, let a growl creep into my voice. “Name. Now.” 

“Stane,” Rumlow spat between gritted teeth. “Now, get the hell off me.” 

One final squeeze of my hands where I gripped him like an unruly pup, I let go. Rumlow pushes away from the wall with a wince and straightedges his jacket. “You don’t know what you’re messing with.” 

“Heard that before, too,” I told him, shoving my hands into the pockets of my pants. I tipped my chin at his glower and crossed the street, mind occupied with why in the name of all that was holy, Stane—a close family friend by all accounts and current CEO of Stark Industries—was having his dead business partner’s kid followed and by a less than reputable gumshoe. Stane could afford to hire better, so why hadn’t he?


	6. The Thrilling Adventures of Tony- Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Takes place after Chapter 5 of The Thrilling Adventures of Tony. This is Steve’s POV of a conversation he has with Bucky.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding.”

“I knew I shouldn’t have told you,” I said, shaking my head at Bucky and heading into the kitchen of my tiny apartment. Bucky came over once or twice a week for dinner and I’d brought up my conversation with Tony the other day and the deal we’d made while Bucky was relaxing on the couch, watching tv. Now he was standing and glowering at me. 

“Do you even know who he is? Who his family is?” I ignored him, dumping pasta in the boiling water. The downside of having a best friend who had known you most of your life and happened to be a private investigator was that they could read you like an open book. His laugh was harsh. “He didn’t, did he? I bet you don’t even know his last name.” 

“It doesn’t matter.” 

“It doesn’t—you’re thinking about _marrying_ _him_ and it doesn’t matter?” Bucky was suddenly behind me, turning me to face him with a grip on my shoulder. “Steve, do you hear yourself? You don’t even know him.” 

I knew enough and whatever I didn’t know, I could learn. But I knew Bucky wouldn’t understand so I didn’t say it. I wasn’t sure if I could even put it into words. I knew as much about Tony as I needed to know that I couldn’t walk away, not yet. I also knew I wasn’t going anywhere unless Tony told me to. And Bucky was wrong about my not knowing his last name. I hadn’t realized who he was right away, and Tony hadn’t told me yet himself, but there had to be a reason for that. He would tell me when he was ready. 

“I know what I’m doing,” I said, gently extricating myself Bucky’s hold, but I stayed facing him. His jaw was clenched, body poised to fight even though this wasn’t a problem he could solve with his fists. Unless he planned on knocking me out and locking me up somewhere until I came to my senses, which wasn’t entirely out of the realm of possibility with Buck. The only thing stopping him was probably that his mom would eventually ask where I was and Mrs. Barnes was the only person on Earth Bucky couldn’t lie to. 

“Goddamn you,” he spat and visibly deflated. He rubbed at his face, took the few steps out into the living room, and turned to face me again. Sounding weary beyond his years, he said, “You can’t save everyone.” 

“It’s not about that, Buck.” I looked down at the floor, the scuffed linoleum beneath my worn loafers that I kept shining, too stubborn to give up on them until they fell apart. I squeezed my eyes shut for a moment before raising my head to meet Bucky’s eyes. “I don’t—I’m not sure I can explain it.” I shrugged helplessly. “But it’s not about saving him.” 

If anything, it was about saving myself. Another thing I couldn’t tell Bucky because he wouldn’t understand. He already didn’t get my need to jump into fights that didn’t involve me directly; he definitely wouldn’t understand how Tony made me feel whole and connected like I hadn’t since my mom died. Like I had a purpose greater than myself. Joining ROTC had been about paying for college, sure, but it had also been me grasping at anyway to feel like I was doing something that mattered. 

Tony mattered, but Bucky was practical and just a bit cynical, and saying I had fallen a little bit in love with Tony the moment I heard his voice would be another thing that made Buck think I was off my rocker. I’d always been a romantic. I’d thought Peggy was the love of my life when we met in high school after her parents moved to the States and we started dating. We eventually realized we were better as friends, but I didn’t know how to do anything half measure and that included loving another person. I’d always love Peggy, just not that same way I had as a teenager, but everything with Tony felt different, more. 

Bucky was afraid of me getting hurt. Part of me was, too, but I knew what would hurt more than not having a chance with Tony was rushing into things and have Tony wake up one day, realizing he’d made a mistake. Which was why I made the two month concession to this whole plan of Tony’s. I’d let him go if he wanted to leave if that happened, but that just might break me. It would be so easy to let myself love Tony and I already knew there wouldn’t be any coming back from that. There was a persistent voice in the back of my head asking what exactly it was that I, a poor kid from Brooklyn with no family and a one bedroom apartment, could offer Tony Stark, but if he wanted me? Really wanted me? I would do everything I could to give him a life worth something. 

The idea of marrying him, having kids, and starting a life had made something deep in my chest to spark to life. It felt  _ right _ . I hadn’t been able to stop picturing it. I knew Tony wanted more from life than staying home, popping out kids, and taking care of an alpha—he wasn’t majoring in engineering for nothing and he was so damn smart it would be a waste. I wanted that for him, wanted him to do everything he ever dreamed of. We’d figure out the details later. 

Bucky exhaled, hard, and knocked his fists against the doorway into the kitchen, but it lacked any real intent behind it. He shook his head, cursed under his breath, and relented. We were both so stubborn we’d come to blows more than once as kids, but we were both old enough now to recognize when the other meant business and avoid a physical altercation. He looked at me sideways. “Fine, you ass. But you be careful. He’s got someone following him.” 

“What?” I paused in the middle of reaching for a spoon to stir the pasta. 

“That’s what I was doing the other day, at the diner. Someone was tailing us and it was about him.” Bucky leaned against the jamb, hands shoved in his pockets. “Brock Rumlow. You remember him? Big, dumb jackass, doesn’t know how to keep his mouth shut.” 

“Yeah. Yeah, I think I’ve seen him around.” I forced myself to relax, turned the burner down on the pasta and took out a pot for the sauce. The thought of someone following Tony, especially that guy who I remembered as a bully, made me want to break something. I pushed the urge aside. I wasn’t some mindless animal. 

“I warned him off for now, but if he doesn’t come back, it’ll be someone else.” I looked over my shoulder at Bucky. His left hand was tapping at the pocket of his coat where his cigarettes used to be. He’d quit smoking a few months ago, but habits were hard to break. “I know who his client is, though. The fiancé I’m assuming,” he said, his feelings on the matter clear in his tone and I rolled my eyes at him and dumped a jar of sauce in the empty pan. “I’ll look into him. See what I can find.” 

“Thanks, Buck,” I said, and I meant for more than just getting involved when he didn’t agree with what I was doing, and he knew what I was really thanking him for because he scowled and looked out the kitchen window above the sink. There wasn’t anything exciting out there to keep his attention, just a brick wall of the building next door, but he kept staring. He was doing it for me, not Tony, but I was grateful all the same and he needed to know. 

“There better be garlic bread,” Bucky finally said, breaking the silence, turning from the window, still looking like he was sulking. 

“I was just about to put it in the oven. I grabbed the pre-packaged loaf of garlic bread and put it on a sheet tray to pop in the oven. Bucky plopped back down on the couch. He still was the happy, but he hadn’t stormed out in a huff. I decided to be happy about that and finished making dinner. 

**Author's Note:**

> Love kudos and comments ❤️ Y’all are amazing! 
> 
> Find me on tumblr: Dyslexicsquirrel


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